


ik zie je graag

by ironccap



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Different languages, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Lack of Communication, M/M, Miscommunication, oblivious idiots, really they need to talk to each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25344769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironccap/pseuds/ironccap
Summary: “What do you mean, it wasn’t the first time?” Nairobi asked, pouring herself a glass of wine.“It’s happened before. He randomly starts talking in different languages to me. He knows I don’t speak them, and yet he keeps doing it. Probably to mock me, why else would he do it?” Martín said. He inhaled deeply, taking the bottle of wine from her and setting it to his lips.-Or; the fic in which Andrés shows off his language skills by declaring his love to Martín in any language possible, but Martín doesn't understand a word of what he's saying and thinks Andrés is just insulting him.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote, Nairobi | Ágata Jiménez & Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 25
Kudos: 144





	ik zie je graag

"I don't understand," Martín said, frowning at the equations in front of him. They made perfect sense in his head a few hours ago, and now it felt like he was missing something.

"What's wrong?" Andrés asked, walking past him, carrying a piece of the big 3D copy of the Bank of Spain framework.

"These equations, they don't make any sense," Martín said, growing frustrated. Maybe if he tried again, wrote it all out on the blackboard, then maybe—

 _Wait_.

He had missed a comma! _Of course_ , it all made perfect sense now.

"Wait, nevermind. Got it!" he said, triumphantly jumping up from his chair. He walked over to the 3D figure, where Andrés was standing as well.

"What was it?" Andrés asked him, a warm smile on his lips.

"I forgot a comma. Really, it was such a minor mistake. I was already starting to doubt my own calculations. Can you _believe_ that?" Martín answered. 

Andrés threw his head back in laughter, causing Martín to have a great view of his neck and Adam's apple. He looked away.

"No, I can't believe that. If I were you, I'd never doubt my own work. You're a mastermind," Andrés answered from behind where Martín was standing. The sudden proximity surprised him, and he nearly jumped.

Electricity sparked through him when he felt Andrés' hand slide from his shoulders all the way down to his waist. He suppressed a shudder, not wanting to let Andrés know the effect he had on him. 

"I'm really not a mastermind, Andrés. I'm just an engineer," Martín said, dodging the compliment like it was a bullet. 

"You can be both, Martín. And you are," he said, coming closer to Martín, his mouth resting almost against his ear, " _je bent mijn wondermooie, prachtige ingenieur. Helemaal van mij en van niemand anders_."

"Uh, what?" Martín said, raising one eyebrow to Andrés, who could have just summoned the devil, and Martín wouldn't have known.

Andrés didn’t say anything in return, instead, he just laughed again. Martín crossed his arms, now being convinced that Andrés had just been insulting him earlier. He was starting to grow annoyed. 

"Right, I'm going to sleep," he said. 

Detaching himself from Andrés, he walked back to his desk. He capped his pen, put it in his pencil case, and cleaned up some remaining papers. 

"Martín," Andrés said, calling his name. He turned around again.

"What? I don't understand what you are saying, Andrés. And it keeps happening, because this isn’t the first time.. I don't speak _fucking_ German, or whatever the hell that was!"

"It was Dutch, actually," Andrés inserted.

"I don't care what it was! You keep doing this. If you really want to make fun of me, at least don't be a coward and say it to my face," Martín said, screamed, even, walking out of the room, leaving Andrés behind.

-

“What do you mean, it wasn’t the first time?” Nairobi asked, pouring herself a glass of wine. 

“It’s happened before. He randomly starts talking in different languages to me. He knows I don’t speak them, and yet he keeps doing it. Probably to mock me, why else would he do it?” Martín said. He inhaled deeply, taking the bottle of wine from her and setting it to his lips.

He'd been going on a full-length rant about Andrés' behaviour to Nairobi for almost an hour now, and he was surprised she was still sitting in the same room, listening to him.

“It has happened before? Can you give me an example?” Nairobi asked. Martín rubbed his forehead.

"Well, a few days ago, we were dancing together. We were having a good time and then, out of nowhere, he said I was his _sœur_ , or something. I even Googled that, and it meant sister! I really don't understand what he's doing, but I'm getting so tired of it! I'm Argentinian, I speak Spanish. Not some baguette language," Martín said, collapsing on the big brown couch in his room.

"Wait, go back. He called you sœur? Are you sure?" She asked.

"No, I mean, it could have been something else, who knows. Again, French goes too fast for me," Martín said, "but that's not the point. I've asked him to stop, multiple times, and he just keeps on going."

" _Âme-sœur_ ," Nairobi said gasping. It made Martín pause his rant again. 

"Not you as well, please," Martín said, groaning at the unfamiliar language. 

"No, Martín. I don't think he called you _soeur_. I think he called you his _âme-sœur_ ," Nairobi said, her eyes going wide while she looked at the screen. 

"What difference does it make?" Martín said, shrugging off the excitement and shock he could see in Nairobi's eyes. He took a sip from the bottle of wine again.

"Martín. _Un âme-sœur_ means a soulmate. He literally called you his soulmate, in French. The pretentious bastard," Nairobi said, laughing. 

Martín nearly choked on his drink once he had processed Nairobi's words. 

"What?!" he nearly screamed, walking over to where she was sitting, peering over her shoulder. 

She scrolled back up and showed him the online dictionary. 

"Well, _fuck_ ," Martín said, "what do I do now?" 

“You clearly need to talk to him,” Nairobi said, as if it was obvious.

-

But Martín, being too scared to confront Andrés, didn’t follow his friend’s advice. Instead, he got drunk on cheap liquor, alone in his room. Nairobi would have probably screamed at him if she knew, but he didn’t care. He was angry. At himself, but mostly at Andrés. He was angry because Andrés wanted to tell him something, but didn’t. Because Andrés wasn’t honest with him, and if he hadn’t consulted Nairobi, he still wouldn’t have known there was something going on. 

He was angry, because Andrés did what he always did, hiding his own true feelings. He and Martín didn’t have secrets for each other, except when it came to that. _Feelings_.

So, that was why he was currently walking around in the garden of the monastery. Although, walking wasn’t the correct word. It was more like swaying, nearly falling over. 

Andrés was sitting on one of the lounge chairs in the garden, reading a book. When Martín came closer, he could see that it wasn’t in Spanish. He snorted, of course it wasn’t. 

“Showing off your knowledge again, Andrés? Your intelligence? What is it this time, Polish?” Martin said, slurring his words. In the back of his mind, he knew that it was better if he would just shut up now. But he was angry. 

Andrés looked up from his book, eyes narrowed when he took in the form of Martín appearing. 

“Almost, Martín. It’s the Finnish version of an English book this time,” he answered, looking amused. God, Martín just wanted to kiss that smug smile right off of his fucking face. 

“Oh, is it? Interesting,” Martín answered, without really meaning it. He couldn’t care less what languages Andrés was reading in. He just wanted him to actually _talk_ to him. Preferably in Spanish. 

He laid down in the seat next to Andrés’, taking a look at the book. “ _Philophobia_ ” the title read. 

“An overwhelming and unreasonable fear of falling in love,” Andrés answered, glancing at Martín sideways, “that’s what the title means.” 

Martín had to avert his own gaze, the way Andrés was looking at him was too much, too intense. Martín loved it, but he also hated it. Because it made him feel vulnerable. As if Andrés could see through him, just like that, and make all his deeply buried secrets get exposed by just looking at him. 

“And,” Martín said after a while, swallowing, “what do you think of the book? Is it any good?”

Andrés took the bookmark laying by his side and put it between the pages of the book. He carefully closed it, and laid it aside. He sat upright, turning his entire body towards Martín.

“No, I don’t think it is. I’m not scared of love,” Andrés said, but it didn’t sound all too convincing. Martín snorted at that, but decided not to comment on it. He closed his eyes, enjoying the pleasant summer breeze. 

He felt some shuffling beside him, and someone getting up from their chair. When he opened his eyes again, he was greeted with Andrés’ beautiful brown eyes, staring back at him, not even ten centimetres removed from his face. His breath caught in his throat, and he felt his mind, already clouded from the alcohol, starting to spin even more. 

If he would lean in a bit more, right now, he would be able to connect his lips with those of Andrés. He would devour him, kiss him like there was no tomorrow, and maybe Andrés would finally stop speaking in code, would return his feelings, and then, Martín would take him to his room, show him his devotion like he’d always wanted to, and they would make l—

“You’re drunk,” Andrés said, startling Martín from his dangerous train of thoughts, making him blink in surprise.

“Uh,” he said, as if he’d lost his voice. 

“You reek of rum, and cheap wine,” Andrés said, his eyes worried, “and you look exhausted. When was the last time you slept?”

Martín genuinely couldn’t remember that, if he was being honest. He usually spent his days inside of the monastery, working on the plan. The plan had to be right, no mistake was allowed, and Martín was a perfectionist. 

“It’s been a while,” he admitted. Andrés scoffed at his words, signaling for Martín to get up, to get some sleep. He obeyed, because he knew that there was no arguing on this, but also because he felt that sleep was starting to take over more and more, making him see stars.

He got up, and if it weren’t for Andrés physically supporting him, he would have probably fallen over instantly again. They walked inside, and Martín tried to ignore how good and warm it felt to have Andrés' hand resting on his side. 

When they reached Martín’s bedroom, he immediately collapsed on the bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes. Andrés sighed, shaking his head, and sat down at the edge of the bed, untying Martín’s shoes. He took them off carefully, and stood up again. He walked over to the window, closing it before he also shut the curtains. 

Martín’s vision had become completely dark by the time Andrés returned to his side. The last thing he was aware of, was Andrés softly kissing his temple, and whispering something in his ear.

“ _Minä rakastan sinua,_ ” was the last thing he heard Andrés say before he got taken over by sleep completely. 

-

The next day, Martín woke up with a pounding headache. He was vaguely aware of what had happened yesterday, and could still feel Andrés’ soft touch of his lips on his skin, but he tried not to think about it too much, in fear of getting too overwhelmed. 

It was almost noon when he crawled out of his bed, and walked over to the kitchen in just his boxers. He made a beeline for the coffee machine, like he usually did, his brain still clouded with sleep. He hadn’t even noticed Andrés sitting on a chair, observing him from a distance, if he hadn’t spoken up.

“ _Sei bellissimo così, Martín. Sei un'opera d'arte. Ti amo_ ,” He said.

Martín nearly spilled his coffee all over the kitchen counter when he heard it. Because, despite what Andrés had probably thought, Martín did understand Italian. Or at least the basics, and how to flirt. It came in handy when he was looking for a one-night-stand in the bars in Palermo.

He tried to calm himself down a bit, by taking a sip of his drink. He turned around to face Andrés then.

"You should look at yourself, _cariño_. You seem to be sculpted by the Gods," Martín said. He saw Andrés' satisfied smile change into one that revealed his surprise. That he got caught. 

"Oh, and," he added, walking over to Andrés, " _ti amo_ , really? That's one of the most known expressions in the world." 

He reached Andrés, who was now looking at him sheepishly. It was a strange sight on Andrés' face. An emotion he would probably not show if Martín were anyone else. Martín's heart gave a traitorous flutter.

Martín leaned in, all doubts he previously had gone, placing his hand on the back of Andrés' neck, pulling his face closer. When he connected their lips in a gentle, but intense kiss, he felt the butterflies in his stomach erupt from their cages, flying around freely inside of him. 

He felt something fall right into place, when Andrés returned the kiss with the same amount of passion. Andrés' tongue poking at his lips, wanting entrance, felt like finally finding the missing piece in a difficult puzzle, making it complete. And the full picture was wonderful. 

Martín walked the both of them backwards, pulling back from the kiss shortly. That made Andrés let out a complaining noise, which didn't last all that long, because Martín resumed his previous actions as soon as Andrés' back hit the wall. He showered the other man's face in affection, leaving a trail of little kisses behind. 

When they parted for air, Martín could only smile at the man in front of him. 

"You didn't say it back," Andrés said, his voice sounding a bit unsure. Martín tried not to laugh at how silly he found that reaction. He'd just kissed Andrés like there was no tomorrow, and felt like his love for the other man was clear, and always had been.

"I thought it was obvious," he said.

But then again, he had never realised Andrés' subtle hints and glances either, so he understood it somewhere too.

He took Andrés' face in his hands once more, studying the piece of art in front of him attentively. 

"But, for the record, _ich liebe dich auch, mein Schatz_ ," he added.

Andrés let out a quiet laugh, return the loving gaze Martín knew he was giving the other as well. 

"You know German?" Andrés asked. 

"It's the only German I know. But, I want to learn more of it, because it reminds me of Berlin. And that reminds me of our first meeting," Martín answered. 

"Oh, I remember that," Andrés said with a certain fondness in his voice, "I also remember how you almost stole my wallet."

"And how you ran after me when you realised it," Martín said, snorting.

"I was chasing you from day one, it seems," Andrés said. 

"I think it was the other way around, actually," Martín said, thinking back on that particular day, smiling at the memory.

"And I think that you're both idiots, to be fair," they suddenly heard someone— Nairobi, Martín's mind helpfully inserted— say from behind the kitchen counter. Martín turned around.

"How long have you been standing there?" Andrés asked her, pointing an accusing finger in her direction.

"Long enough to know what presents I'll be giving the both of you for Christmas," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Which are?" Martín asked, his hands on his sides.

"Various kinds of dictionaries. And a Duolingo Plus subscription," she answered, leaving the kitchen with a cup of tea. 

Right. She had a point.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can always follow me on my [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/hannib4l).
> 
> I purposefully didn't put the translation of the non-English sentences at the end of each chapter, so you will be closer to what Martín also experienced :) (this idea came from Marcus, aka palermosfridge on ao3, please read their pirate AU) but I'll put the translations here!!
> 
> • "Je bent mijn wondermooie, prachtige ingenieur. Helemaal van mij en van niemand anders." = "You are my wonderful, beautiful engineer. All mine and no one else's." (Dutch)
> 
> • "Minä rakastan sinua." = "I love you." (Finnish)
> 
> • "Sei bellissimo così, Martín. Sei un'opera d'arte. Ti amo." = "You look so beautiful, Martín. You're a work of art. I love you." (Italian)
> 
> • "Ich liebe dich auch, mein Schatz." = "I love you too, my treasure."
> 
> And, the title of this fic is in Dutch! "ik zie je graag" is a common way to tell someone in Flemish (Dutch) that you love them. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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